


Of accidents and worryingly lacking survival instinct

by Elisexyz



Series: Demon!Harvey AU [2]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Demon Harvey, Demon!Harvey, Gen, Protective Harvey, Protective!Harvey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 04:19:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11913069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Five times Harvey saved Mike.Or "The Perks Of Having A Demon For A Boss", by Mike Ross.





	Of accidents and worryingly lacking survival instinct

**Author's Note:**

> ...goddammit, this wasn't supposed to become a series.

 1.

 

“And what exactly makes you think that showing up would be a good idea?” Harvey asks, crossing his arms and looking pretty pissed at his stupidity. “Even your poor excuse of a friend told you to stay away.”

Mike feels like he’s supposed to defend Trevor, but he is trembling slightly and he can’t get the rough voice on the phone out of his head and he was chased by fucking _drug dealers_ , all because of his _friend_. He doesn’t really feel like coming to his defence against Harvey, even if maybe he should.

“I can’t leave him there,” Mike states though, because Trevor could throw him to the wolves with a smile – not that he actually would, of course – and Mike still wouldn’t be able to do the same thing.

“Figures,” Harvey sighs, pinching the top of his nose. “Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do,” he looks at Mike with calculating eyes, and Mike can’t help feeling reassured by Harvey’s control over the situation. He has his back, he is not alone in this anymore. “I’m going in and I’ll try to convince them to let us go and sign as my clients, so that I can’t testify against them using the surveillance pictures we are picking up before going. You are staying outside and I’ll tell them that you’ll call the police if I don’t come out safe and sound. We good?”

“You… Want to go in there alone?” Mike questions, because he doesn’t like that idea one bit, those people will surely have guns and-

“Mike,” Harvey’s eyes turn black in a blink, and Mike internally emits a not really brilliant “ _oh”_ , because sometimes he forgets that things like bullets won’t do anything more than piss Harvey off. “I’ll try the diplomatic approach, if they try to shoot me I’ll just knock them out. Or slit their throats, depending on the damage suffered by my suit,” Harvey adds, with a slight smirk.

Mike can’t help smiling at that, and it feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Harvey replies, a slight, vaguely disgusted grimace on his face. “The next time you let that idiot affect your work performance, you’re fired.”

By now, Mike knows that he doesn’t really mean it.

 

 

2.

 

“-Yeah, I’m sure that being Harvey Specter’s toy boy has its perks,” Gregory is saying, leaning against Mike’s desk with a satisfied grin, as if he had just thrown in the best punchline of the century instead of something that Mike has heard over and over again during the weeks he spent working at Pearson Hardman. He barely registers it as an insult anymore.

Kyle is chuckling at his desk, pretending to be discreet. Mike rolls his eyes.

“Knock it off, I have work to do,” he says, staring at the patent in front of him.

“Why bother?” Gregory teased. “We all know how you got here, you can just give your boss a blowj-”

He doesn’t get to finish the thought, because he has been slammed on the ground, right on his ass, as if someone had pushed him. Mike breaks into a grin before looking at the corridor of the bullpen, knowing whom he’ll see.

“Clumsy doesn’t work well for partners, What’s-Your-Name,” Harvey comments, barely glancing at Gregory before gracefully climbing over him to get to Mike’s desk. Mike can’t help grinning widely once again at Gregory, who has quickly stood up, his face redder than Mike’s ever seen it, his eyes on the ground as he tries to get out of the way as soon as possible.

“Get up, we have to go,” Harvey orders sharply, before heading out of the bullpen without waiting for Mike to gather his things. He quickly puts his cell phone in his bag, alongside with everything within reach _just to be sure_ , and he takes off after Harvey – not before he has grinned victoriously at Gregory once again, though.

“That was nice of you,” Mike comments as soon as he has caught up with Harvey, leaning towards him to whisper it in his ear, like a secret.

Harvey glanced at him, annoyed. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s hear the newest excuse.”

Mike finds it particularly entertaining to tease Harvey about how much he loves him. It’s mainly just to challenge his Mr. I-Don’t-Give-A-Crap attitude, but Mike actually believes in his You-So-Care-About-Me crusade. A little, at least. Maybe it’s more like hope. If Harvey doesn’t _care_ about him, he surely does _like_ him, at least a little, and judging by the majority of his interactions with the rest of the world Mike is entitled to feeling a little special for that.

“He was shitting on my work ethics,” Harvey states. “And it’s not an excuse, you know that I literally _don’t_ care about you, or anyone, for that matter.”

“Sure, your little soul-thing,” Mike comments. Harvey has told him right before letting him accept the deal, because if he is going to break the law with someone it’s pretty relevant information that this someone is not human. Most of the time, Mike finds it hard to believe that Harvey is nothing but smoke animating a corpse and that there is no soul in there.

Harvey likes hot-dogs, he is a workaholic, he is in love with his wardrobe and he seems to violently despise every piece of clothing Mike wears, he hides Scotch in his office and he likes listening to music on his old tapes… He acts so _human_ that it’s hard to remember that he’s just acting.

Except then Harvey gets a little bit too mad and his eyes turn black for a second, sometimes he slams people against walls with his mind when they piss him off and he likes to remind Mike that he lacks a soul and therefore he also lacks the ability to ‘do the caring thing’.

Mike wonders if dark smoke could count as some kind of soul too. Because Harvey totally likes him.

“And you did hire a fraud, by the way, your ethics suck,” Mike adds.

“Ordinary associates are boring,” Harvey comments, smiling politely at Ray as he steps into the car. Mike gets in from the other side, because he knows the drill by now, and he grins.

“Oh, look at that, he thinks I’m _extraordinary_.”

“An extraordinary pain in the ass.”

“Really? That was lame.”

“Your tie is lame.”

“Seriously, I feel like I’m back in high school.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you, considering that you just graduated from high school and _only_ high school.”

“You should upgrade your sense of humour.”

 

 

3.

 

It’s not that Mike doesn’t look both ways before crossing the road: he _does_ , his parents died in a car accident, of course he pays attention to the road.

But sometimes he gets lost in his own head, or looking for something in his ‘man purse’, as Harvey likes to call it, and he just forgets, crossing the road absentmindedly.

Harvey has asked him if he has remembered the paperwork, and Mike has that awful feeling in his gut when you aren’t quite sure that you have what you are supposed to and you need to verify because maybe if you notice right away there’s still time to fix it.

He has just spotted the pieces of paper, a relieved smile on his face, when he hears the harsh sound of a klaxon and he turns, the ghost of a smile still on his face, and then there’s a truck coming towards him, too fast to stop and he is too frozen to move and- And then there’s his cheek hitting the ground, a sharp pain in his head and his arm protesting because his whole body landed on it.

“Shit,” he whispers, his vision blurred for a second as he sits up, feeling light-headed. He hears terrified people screaming to call 911, somebody asking “Is he dead?” and Mike wants to assure everyone that no, he isn’t dead, he is fine, it’s a miracle but he is- He turns and there’s somebody else on the ground, and he can’t quite get his mouth to say anything yet, but there’s someone screaming in his head and he starts crawling towards Harvey.

He is _demon_ , why is he on the ground? Mike has seen him healing from papercuts in a matter of seconds, he has heard him bragging that things like bullets or ordinary blades cannot hurt him, so Mike _knows_ , on an abstract level, that Harvey is totally fine, but he has never _seen_ him suffering anything more than a cut and it’s fucking terrifying.

“Harvey?” Mike is by his side, with people talking and gathering around them. Harvey is laying on his back, his arm twisted in a way that arms surely aren’t supposed to bend and blood all over the place, his face barely recognizable through all that. “Oh my God, Harvey, are you okay?”

Harvey glares at him, growling like an angry animal as he rolls on his side, gripping his twisted arm and spitting some blood on the ground.

“I’ll rip your throat out if you don’t shut the hell up,” Harvey threatens, his voice rough, and a chuckle escapes Mike’s lips because he seems to be fine, in spite of his looks. “You idiot, just _look_ before you cross the goddamn road.”

“I’m sorry,” Mike says, helping Harvey sitting up. Harvey glares at him again, but he accepts his help. “Thank you,” Mike adds.

“Yeah,” Harvey mumbles, trying to get his arm back into place. Mike has to look away, but he resists the urge to cover his ears to not hear the _crack_ of Harvey’s bones. “Next time I’ll let you die without lifting a finger, I won’t lose another suit over you.”

Mike smiles, because he knows that he doesn’t mean any of it.

 

 

4. 

 

Mike supposes that not everyone appreciates cocky lawyers who walk around being proud of how good they were at taking down _your_ company, making you lose the millions of dollars it’s worth.

To be fair, Mr. Marks wasn’t supposed to be around to listen, and it’s not like Mike was deliberately trying to be cruel, he’s just very, _very_ proud of the loophole that he has managed to find. And he has a reason to be, because he even caught _Harvey_ smiling proudly at him.

Still, Mr. Marks doesn’t quite appreciate it, and Mike has the time to hear the insult coming from behind him before he has turned and a fist is colliding with his face and he sees black – or dark green? Or is it blue? – dots everywhere for a few seconds.

He blindly grips what he believes to be Harvey’s arm, but his support doesn’t last for long, because when Mike can see clearly again Harvey has already shoved him behind, too busy punching Mr. Marks right back in the face to be Mike’s walking stick.

“Bastard,” Harvey snarls. Mike can’t see his face, but he can hear how upset he is, and Mr. Marks’ nose is already losing copious amounts of blood, which is satisfying enough, there’s no need to keep going.

So, when Harvey takes a step forward, looking ready to land another punch – or two, or like _ten_ –, Mike grips his arm, more firmly than he previously has.

“It’s fine, let him be,” he says.

Harvey turns slightly, glaring at him. “No way. This piece of shit likes to take people by surprise, he deserves to get his ass kicked by someone completely out of his league.”

Mike doesn’t let go of Harvey’s arm as Mr. Marks’ attorney hesitantly helps his client standing up, eyeing Harvey as if fearing to be attacked any moment for stepping in.

Mike’s cheek still aches, _a lot_ , but he can ignore that, because there’s always _something_ about Harvey sticking up for him, something warm and special, because he has a _demon_ looking out for him, how many people can say the same thing?

“Come on. It’s fine,” Mike insists.

Harvey snorts, but he does turn his back on Mr. Marks and follows Mike towards the car, as their opponents slowly walk away as well.

Mike hears Mr. Marks’ gasp as he falls on the ground once again, and he doesn’t need to see Harvey’s smirk to know who’s responsible.

“And you have the nerve to call _me_ a five-year-old.”

 

 

5. 

 

The phone almost slips out of his trembling hands as he gets it out of his pocket. He keeps glancing at the closed door, resisting the urge to put his hands on his ears to block out the growls coming from behind it, and he can’t help staring at the line of salt, knowing that it should work but unable to stop worrying that it _won’t_.

Thank God he has him on speed dial.

“ _What do you want?”_ Harvey asks, mildly annoyed. “ _We saw each other about an hour ago_.”

“Please, get here,” Mike lets out, because the hellhound just bumped on the door again and it’s fucking _terrifying_. He knows that his voice is trembling but frankly he doesn’t give a shit, since it’s a _miracle_ that he isn’t crying right now.

“ _What’s going on?”_ Harvey asks, and this time he sounds apprehensive.

“There’s- I swear, I have no idea _why_ \- There’s a _hellhound_ outside of my- It’s trying to get in, Harvey, I don’t know what to _do_ -”

Mike’s sitting on the floor like an idiot, and part of him would want to get up, but his legs feel like they are made of jelly and he just wants for that thing to go _away_ \- He’s never been afraid of dogs, but he does remember every single hellhound kill he’s seen on the news and that’s some terrifying shit. He has made no deal, why would that thing come after him? He doesn’t want to die, and especially not like _that_.

“Please, come here,” he says again, and he sounds pleading and pathetic, but he doesn’t have it in him to worry about that now.

“ _Calm down_ ,” Harvey says, and Mike wants to scream, because there’s really no reason to be calm right now. “ _Have you salted the door and the windows?”_

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve salted everything,” he says. There’s still salt in the box on his left. He grabs it, just in case.

“ _Alright, stay put, I’ll be out of your door in a second, got it?”_

“Okay,” Mike mumbles, as the call ends.

He finally gives in to the urge of covering his ears. He can still hear the growls, as much as muffled. He guesses it’s better than nothing. He’s trying to get out of his head the gruesome images of people killed by hellhounds, but it isn’t _working_ , it can’t work, he can’t _forget_ -

Then the bumps against his door stop. Mike swallows, lifting his eyes to the door. The growling continues, but it seems a little further away now. Then he hears bumps and growls and he guesses that Harvey has come to help. He should get up, open the door, do _something_. But he can’t see that beast and he’s _terrified_ , he’s not sure he’d be able to move if he _wanted_ to. He holds onto the salt box a little tighter, reminding himself that it’s _Harvey_ , he’ll win, he can beat a stupid dog, he doesn’t need his help. He would just get in the way. He’s better off on that floor, scared like a child.

He has no idea how much time has passed when the growling stops and silence falls. Mike swallows heavily and stares at the closed door, holding his breath as if this was a horror movie and it was one of those quiet moments in which you are terrified because you _know_ that something awful is about to happen. He half-expects the hellhound to break through the door.

Instead, he hears loud knocking. “Mike,” Harvey calls. “It’s gone, let me in.”

Mike inhales, and it takes a moment too long for him to start moving towards the door. His legs still feel awfully numb and when he stands up it feels like he’s going to fall down. He hesitates before breaking the salt line, but he does, then he opens the door to Harvey. He is half-covered in viscous black stuff that looks a lot like ink.

Mike can’t help making a disgusted face at the sight, but Harvey doesn’t seem bothered by the hellhound’s blood as he steps in.

“Did you make a deal?” Harvey asks. It doesn’t sound like he’s accusing him, but Mike still feels the fear in his bones and he’s on the edge, he needs to cry or scream or both, so he ends up on the defensive.

“Of course not,” he snaps. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

Harvey raises his eyebrow at the outburst. “Sometimes,” he replies. “But if that’s the case, I have something else to take care of. Remake the salt line after I got out, and stay here. I’ll be back.”

He’s about to teleport out of the room, but Mike catches his arm in time. “What do you think you are doing?!” he says. “If you know what’s going on, tell me!”

Harvey sighs, annoyed, shaking Mike’s hand off him. “I have a _theory_ ,” he says. “We’ll talk later.”

This time, he’s gone before Mike can open his mouth or move an inch.

Mike lets out a frustrated growl, before grabbing the salt and frantically remaking the line. He also gets another box and creates a circle around the couch, just- just in case.

 

Ten minutes after Harvey’s gone away, the police knocks on his door. Given Harvey’s warning, he’s hesitant to open the door, but they have badges and uniforms, so he just holds onto his half-empty box of salt and hopes for the best. They ask questions about the noises his neighbours complained about and the awful quantity of black liquid outside of his house. He explains about the hellhound and how a demon he knows took care of it. One of the officers pokes the invisible corpse with the tip of his booth, before they believe him.

Apparently, he has to pay for the damages anyway.

 

Harvey knocks on his door an hour later, when Mike’s pretending to watch a movie in an attempt to not go crazy. His phone is right next to him, and he’s had the temptation of calling Harvey _way_ too many times. He’s worried that something has happened and scared to death that he could hear another hellhound trying to break down his door _again_ any second.

When he hears the knocking, he’s startled and on his feet in a second, but then the sound of Harvey’s voice makes his muscles relax instantly.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Mike immediately asks. Harvey looks perfectly fine and cleaned up. “You took a shower?!”

“My suit was ruined and I has hellhound blood all over me, _of course_ I cleaned up,” Harvey replies, raising his eyebrow as if to call him an idiot.

“You could have _called_ ,” Mike accuses him.

“It was about ten minutes, and I’m here now,” Harvey shrugs. He’s walked in like he owns the place, and he turns towards Mike with a smirk. “Salt around the couch? Really?” he teases.

“Oh, I’m sorry, almost getting _killed_ will do that to you,” Mike says through his teeth. “Care to tell me what exactly happened?”

“It’s taken care of,” Harvey dismisses it.

“I didn’t ask if it was taken care of, I asked what ‘it’ _was_.”

Harvey exhales, annoyed by his insistence. “It was just a demon with a grudge,” he explains. “He won’t bother you anymore.”

“What did I do?” Mike asks, almost yells, because _when_ exactly did he cross a goddamn demon?

“Nothing,” Harvey replies. “It’s me he wanted to get back at. But, as I said, it’s taken care of.”

Mike still feels his stomach twisting unpleasantly and he’s pretty sure that he won’t sleep tonight. He wants to know more about what exactly went down with this demon, why he was caught in the crossfire, what Harvey did in that hour he was gone, but he knows Harvey and he doesn’t seem to be willing to hand over any more information.

As Harvey glares at Mike to break the line of salt around the couch so that he can settle in, Mike decides that they’ll talk more about it later. He doesn’t want to risk Harvey getting pissed and leaving him alone for the night.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr as [heytheredeann](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading!


End file.
